Salvation
by Goddess Evangeline
Summary: When a world you once defended turns against you, where will you find salvation?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Fifteen years. Fifteen years since anyone had seen him. Since they'd seen his brighter than sunshine smile. Since they'd heard his unrestrained laughter. Since anyone, anyone at all, had laid eyes on Natsu Dragneel. It wasn't that he was missing; that would an agreeable change of events when one considered the horrible truth. It wasn't that he had been taken, although this was much closer to the truth. It wasn't even that he had run away; why would he with Igneel dead and Achnologia nowhere to be found. No, the horrible truth was, Natsu was in prison, a prison so dark he would never see the sun; so small he had to curl in on himself just to fit inside; so inescapable there was no door, no window, and truly no lock as is was sealed with magic. Reserved for the most terrible offenders the Magic council had only used it in one other case, ironically on another Fire Dragon slayer, some millennia ago when they were much more common; though even then Fire had been a rare element for a Dragon slayer, being unruly and nigh uncontrollable. In fact, when faced with the full potential of a Fire Dragon Slayer, Fiore had almost been destroyed; brought to its knees in a single night.

They called it a Ṭirākaṉ ciṟaiccālai, which translate literally to _dragon prison_, though most called it the Dragon Sphere. The two halves were inlaid with detailed pictures of the Great War, in which Fiore did battle with the Black Dread, a Dragon Slayer whose true name was washed away by the ages. This Dragon Slayer, the very same that was the cause of so much strife within the kingdom that it almost led to its dissolution, was defeated and imprisoned by the Nine the first paragons of the magical world, and the first wizards to sit on the magic council; after discovering that they were unable to slay him, he was locked away in the first Dragon Sphere which was sealed in the highest point of the Towers of Era. And now it had a companion, an almost identical sphere suspended right next to it…identical, save the steam….and the strange luminescent red liquid dropping from the sphere leaving scorch marks on the floor in their wake; in fact upon further inspection they appeared to be eating into the floor.

Danos, one of the only human guards employed by the magic council, stepped closer to inspect the enclosment. "What the hell is happening to this thing?" He asked himself, feeling the true heat of the liquid for the first time since entering the room. He drew his hand close to inspect the viscous material, finding it to be…well, hot, just as he expected. Why the hell did he have to touch it, that shit hurt. "Should call the Chairman. He'll know what to do." Nodding to himself he moved to hall to alert one of those goddamn toads…freaks. "Hey, Nadal! Summon Chairman Seam, this sphere thing is screwing up."

"Must you be so crude?" The humanoid replied "The Chairman doesn't have time for your nonsense in any case, he's busy with important work for his Majesty. Why are you so unsettled? You should be used to the Ṭirākaṉ moving by now?"

"It isn't moving, it's leaking. And the leaks are starting to eat at the floor. Like bleed right through, you know? So could you move your toad ass and get 'im. Or, fuck, any of the Councilman that can handle this bullshit 'cause I'm guessing its way above my paygrade."

"Everything's above your paygrade," Nadal whispered under his breath as he waddled down the hallway as fast as his misshapen legs would carry him. If what the ruffian said was true…well, best they verify the information before he jumped to conclusions. Still…he shuddered, running now; this could be very bad.

* * *

Burning. He was burning, on fire, how odd. Fire had never bothered him before, he'd almost forgotten that sweet tingle of heat; it sat on the surface of his skin, digging itself in like fingernails in that way that flirted with hurting but felt so decadent. He tried to roll his shoulders, to savor that luscious crawl of heat up his back, but found himself rather immobilized. He pondered this while attempting to wiggle his fingertips, perhaps it was a trick of his brain; but no, he couldn't move those either. How long had it been since he'd felt such imprisonment? Not since his days in the sparrow house, long before FairyTail, before Igneel, before he was ever truly alive; it seemed so long ago now he could laugh but for the weeping, the suffering he felt deep inside. What was this? What was happening to him? _Erza, Lucy, Happy, __**Gray**__, someone please, help me…_ Silence. Naught but silence greeted him. No one was coming. He was burning, his world being torn asunder, and no one was coming to save him. He was alone. _Why?_ Truly? Who could say? _Was it all just a dream?_ Perhaps, but how cruel, give him a taste of freedom, comradery, companionship only to rip it from him in the form of this waking nightmare.

There was a tickle, a tingling sensation in the back of his mind, tendrils of another beast yearning for its own freedom. _We are the Dragon. We cannot be tamed. We cannot be caged. We succumbed once. Never again; break free, spread our wings, and besiege them._ It didn't matter who, this was him, clearly, and he was right. He yearned for freedom ever since he was a small boy. He sacrificed his right to call himself free the day he took himself to the Yo-man for the sake of his mother, crippled with the Sweat, his father, a gambler and a fool, his siblings, beaten at the hands of their own masters not long after their father had indentured them to pay off his own debts. They were dead, the city of Artis was dead, and yet he alone would….no that was wrong. He needed out. This place whatever it was it was changing him. So many voices. Too many voices. _Please, please release me. Make it end. Pleas, Gods just give me peace. It hurts…so much…so much. The burning, the voices. It's too much. Please, just kill me. Let me die. I'd rather be in the ground than suffer this torment. Please….._

Just then, a light burst through the veil; a crack in walls he never saw. He could move, he _**was**_ moving. He breathed a sigh of relief as his world was flooded with light. His light, his freedom. His _salvation._


	2. Chapter 2

Natsu's life started much like any other child's, he was born in a small shanty-house in the city of Artis, northernmost bay of the Imperium and central hub of trade between Tharevnus and Fiore. He could still remember the roar of the city at the day's prime, when the sea swelled and the merchant came ashore to set up their carts for the day. He remembered the smell of salt from the sea and the sulfur tone given to the air from the Fire Spear Mountains not a day's ride from the city proper. He remembered the first time he'd ever seen a rich person, a man who wore fine silks and stood up straighter than anyone he'd ever seen never mind that he was two hims shorter that his papa. But what was would always be most prevalent in his mind would be the Docks. Normally the Docks were just what they're name suggested, they were a place for ships to stop, resupply, trade their goods, and take a general break from the arduous life one lived when you plied your trade on the sea. But some days, the Docks played host to a much more macabre pageant. You see, while Fiore could be what you would consider a free state, Tharevnus was a slave state, and a rather stringent one at that, there were so many rules to owning trading and selling slave; right down to the type of slaves certain people could by, and which types of slaves can do which types of jobs, whether or not one slave could interbreed with another, even which types of people could be slaves.

The Imperium of Tharevnus was a place that worshipped, traded, and valued magic. If you didn't have magic you were…ordinary. If you were ordinary…well, the Magisters would find other users for you. Most were rather mundane, field hands, cooks, housemaids, butlers, caregivers, even doctors-though a magical healer would always be given deference over you, since you were…you know, a lesser being- the only thing you ever really didn't want to be where the Imperium was concerned was nothing. Because nothing meant you were a slave and if you were a slave…well, then the possibilities were endless, really. You could be a field hand, a cook, a housemaid, a caregivers, a table, a chair; a pillow…a whore. Though to be fair, Tharevnus called them sparrows, not whores. Why use such an ugly word for a lovely and age old prestigious profession; funny how the art of the seven sighs is prestigious right up until the moment you suggest they learn them, then it's a 'menial job' and its 'beneath them.' Prestigious, right. In any case, you may have noticed that aside from the more ahem, intimate positions a slave can have within a household, certain _other_ items were mentioned; inanimate object at that. You see in the Imperium slaves are considered of little more value than a piece of furniture; it wasn't uncommon for a Magister or Magarum (a non-magic user born into a Magister family, rare and shameful for any magical family in Tharevnus but still they were other than the _other_ unworthy souls) to purchase slaves and pose them in common areas in various stages of undress, simply for the sake of looking at them, some Magisters were even known to purchase slaves for the sake of 'modifying' them to fit their less mainstream visual interests.

What does all this have to do with the Docks, you ask? Well reader, because magic users make up the ruling class in the Imperium of Tharevnus, therefore magic-users can't be slaves and vice versa. Vice versa. If a magic user can't be a slave, then a slave can't be a magic user, and if a slave can't be a magic user than it stands to reason that a slave should never have the ability to do magic. Ever. No exceptions. Where do the docks play into this system? When the Kartaros (slave-herders, that's right, _herders_) discover a child that is to be taken to the freehold, the ironically named market –and market is a kind word for a shit-pit you can walk in and buy people from- had a talent for magic, they throw him off the docks, into the stone wall right off the shore and let their bodies drift down the Vernier where the shanties get their water. Because magic users can't be slaves, and vice versa. Artis is a very special case, as it is not only a hub for trade but also a hub for slave 'breeding.' Generally when a child in Artis turned 3 (or could walk and speak on his own, which ever came first) he was taken to the Docks to be inspected, if he failed inspection, he was thrown over, if he passed he was further evaluated for assignment and then bid upon by the various proprietors of different trade establishments. This cycle continued for almost three days until all the children of age were inspected. The carnage, however, lasted for over a month. They shanty dwellers called this month Tierne Mavus; Rose river. Less for the blood and more for the roses the parents who've been robbed off their children will send into the river so that the babes will have one last bit of beauty from their short lives to share with the Gods.

Now, normally children of the free families of Artis do their utmost to avoid being caught in this place at this time of year, lest they be mistaken for the rabble; Natsu, being a free-child would normally be glued to his mother's side and confined to his house for his own safety. But momma was ill, having caught the highly contagious sweating sickness. Natsu was stuck with his father, a horrible irresponsible man who loved the Con so much more than he loved his family. Which normally wasn't a problem for them, as his mother was a tailor and sewed fine clothes for them both, and the other free families of Artis and Tharevnus; a few Magisters, too. She provided for them as best as any woman alone could be expected to. Natsu loved her more than anyone else in the whole world. He wrote her poems, drew her pictures, and even played music for her. To him, she was an angel. His papa….well, let's just say he didn't much care for papa and leave it at that. Where Momma was fire lilies, Papa was smoke and liquor. Where Momma was juniper mint, Papa was some foul something that Natsu couldn't identify but was pretty sure had something to do with the smell of him. Where Momma was silk and flower petals, Papa was wool and burlap. They were, in a word, complete opposites. Natsu could never understand how someone like Papa could have convinced someone like Momma to love him. But then, Natsu thought, he did love the Con…and he was good at it. That explained a lot, actually.

So here they were, Natsu and his Father, Cassillun, sitting in a pub that he apparently frequented if the jovial greetings from multiple patrons were anything to go by, playing game that his papa was definitely not good at. Every time he would move a piece the guy on the other side of the table would move another piece and take Papa's away. Natsu didn't know how to play, but that his Papa wasn't winning was pretty obvious. He sighed and took survey of his surroundings once more. The pictures on the walls were all of women in various stages of undress. The floor was scuffed wood. The booths were…well, he didn't think ale left stains like _that_. All in all, it seemed rather unremarkable. He shrugged, his Papa didn't like flashy things anyway.

"Gods be damned, how the hell do you win every single damn time?!" Cassillun shouted at the top of his lungs when his final piece was removed from the board, startling his son out of his mindless survey.

"You should learn how to play the game before you start placing bets on it, Cass." The man across from him declared. "Now, about those Dragons you owe me…"

"Well…I'm sure we can work something out, Darrion." He replied nervously, tugging his collar a bit. "You know my wife is sick and all that, 's why the boy's with me after all."

Darrion nodded, stroking his oiled beard contemplatively. He _did_ know, his own wife had been lamenting the fact since the woman had fallen ill, saying something or other about no longer being able to purchase fine threads and cloths from her. Not that he minded of course, the less coin the woman spent the more he had in his pockets. He eyed the child, who was now looking from his father to himself, as though trying to comprehend precisely what had happened during his untimely mental departure from their game and their wager by proxy. He wasn't all that bad to look at. Not too much prettier than most boys his age, but definitely more slender; his hair an interesting shade as well. Darrion's experience as a Kartarosi had given him an adept eye at spotting desirable qualities in potential slaves, and this child was truly no different from all the others. They _all_ had their own innate qualities, after all. "Yes, I had heard something about that." He nodded, as though coming to a decision. "Tell you what, Cass, you give me the boy and we call it square."

Cassillun was taken aback for a moment. "Natsu?" He looked down at his son, an unusual tightening in his chest at the thought of giving his child (though he'd never truly expressed any sort of outward affection for the boy, still his) to such a man as Darrion. "I don't know if…"

"Come now, Cassillun, if not the boy, what else of value do you own? At least what else do you own that's worth one hundred gold dragons? Nothing, I'd wager." Darrion pressed on. "I'm being more than generous with this bargain. I'll even see to it that the mage-healer that my own family sees will pay a visit to your very ill wife."

Natsu gazed up at his Father, his impossibly large emerald orbs clearer than the most precious of gems begging him to just take his licks…and take him home to his mother. He desperately, _desperately_, did not want to be a slave. But most of all, he wanted to go back to his mother, and he was almost positive that going with this man, this Darrion, wouldn't permit him to do that ever again. His father looked back at him, almost pleading him to make it easier; to make this more bearable for _him_. As though he were the child and Natsu the responsible adult. The boy's shoulder's sagged. He knew what would come next.

"You've got a deal, Darrion." Cassillun said, sullenly. "You better not fuck me over with that healer, man. The Sweat's nothing to mess around with."

"Of course not, Cass. The missus would never let me hear the end of it if she found out I had the opportunity to help your Lilah and flaked."

And just like that, Natsu's life as he knew it was over. No more siting by the fire reading to momma as she put the finishing touches on a garment for some fine lady whose name he never cared to remember. No more stories of adventures from the old men in the neighborhood; no tales of heroic tales. No more gentle strokes of his hair when he was sick. No more stolen embraces with the neighbor boy who had thought hair pulling was a good way to tell someone you liked them…jerk. No more childhood. From that day forward, Natsu was an adult…at least whenever it was convenient for whoever it was that bought him at the Freehold.

Four days later Natsu was on auction in Landover, a water-locked corner of the Imperium some hundred miles away from his home. He was looked over by men and women alike; each of them dismissing him for this task or that- he'd never been so glad to be small in his whole life, he _hated_ the idea of working underground in a mine; the field he wouldn't have minded so much, in the sun all day? Paradise- until finally a relatively well-dressed young man stopped in front of him for inspection. He looked him over for almost an entire hour, inspecting his teeth, his lips, his skin, his arms, his legs, even his…other places…before finally inquiring as to his price. It was a sobering moment for any human being, discovering precisely how much a single human life was worth. Apparently he was only worth about 10 Golden Dragon plus 5 Silver. A pittance compared to what he was sold by his papa for. He even got a mage-healer for momma out of the deal! Darrion had very clearly been robbed blind.

Shortly after that he was loaded onto a large vessel with several other small children, disproportionately young boys he noted glibly. Where they were going, he couldn't say, but they were packed in like sardines, so he doubted it would be somewhere comfortable. The whole experience had jaded him a bit. How could it not? 10 freakin' Dragons? What the actual hell? He supposed it didn't matter in the long run, the boy next to him had been bought for 4, but he was sickly looking whereas Natsu was very clearly healthy and well cared for and much stronger than this little…_whoa. Reel it in, Natsu, wow._ Okay that was harsh, but still, it chapped his hide. Who determined these prices anyway? He was going to give them a very stern talking to about how an arbitrary pricing system was damaging to his self-esteem. Not that he really knew what that meant of course, but the guy at the far right end of the…can this be called a room?...that they were all shoved into was saying stuff about it and he seemed pretty confident so why the heck not? Before he finished his rant, a man from the top deck of the ship came down and beat him within an inch of his life for 'criticizing the decisions of his betters.' Apparently 'a couch doesn't have any opinion on how much its owners haggle its price down to,' and '[they] shouldn't either, goddammit.' Well, never mind then. _Just stand here and shut up, Natsu, you like your teeth right where they are._

Natsu wasn't stupid. He was perceptive and more than knew how to read a situation to his advantage…it's just that he's small. Adults don't generally want to listen to listen to you when you're small. Ever. It was stupid, but those were the facts of life. Sometimes all he had to do was put on a cute face and sometimes that would be enough to win him favor with anybody. Or at least it would get him out of trouble. Maybe save him from a beating. Maybe. Here, though, it bought him a free ride to…well he still wasn't really sure. Wherever they were going, it had to be better than the freehold. That place made him feel like cattle and he didn't much like that.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally halted. Or at least he thought they did. It was kind of hard to tell on a ship. The splash of something being thrown into the sea and the less than abrupt tug on the boat in the general direction of whatever way _that way_ had been was really their only clue that anything irregular had happened at all. Shortly after they were pulled in the general direction of discomfort, the overhead latch was lifter and the man that Natsu knew only as the Quartermaster ushered them out on onto several smaller boats headed towards a looming shore with a tall set of towers that cast a looming shadow on the beach miles and miles away. Perhaps it was the position of the sun relative to the spire, perhaps it was his sun shot eyes playing tricks; whatever it was it was nothing like his little island. Nothing bigger than a shed existed on the island. He was, in a word, terrified. He knew he would suffer here. How could a boy from a little island not even worthy of a place on the royal maps possibly thrive in such a place, especially as a slave? He sent up a silent prayer to the Gods that it was worth it; that his father's _friend_ had actually managed to make momma well, that he wouldn't suffer in vain.

When they reached the shore, they were sorted-by what criteria Natsu wasn't sure but it had to do with the marks placed on their chains at the time of boarding the ship that brought them- and were loaded onto carts and hauled away in different directions. One cart went towards the opposite end of the shore, probable ship hands; one into relatively untamed wilderness; probably farmhands or scouts meant to tame the otherwise unworkable land; one cart moved toward a mountain that loomed overhead even more formidably than the spire, likely miners. His cart moved right toward the spire, and the city that rested underneath it; house workers or…something else. He really hoped he wasn't pretty enough for that something else. Other little boys thought he was pretty, sure, but pretty enough to pay for? He doubted it and if they would pay they certainly wouldn't pay very much. He didn't know that he'd be very useful as a house slave, mind you, but at least he could be trained to competency. He never imagined he could be effectively trained to fuck; not with what little he was sure to be worth.

On their journey, which was paradoxically the shortest eternity he had ever experienced in his short life, they passed by the most beautiful trees he had ever seen. There were flowers as big as he was in a million-million different colors; colors he didn't even think you could get in flowers! The trees had leaves that were as long as the tallest person he'd ever seen and twice as wide; some were even bigger than his whole house, in the most impossible shade of green the imagination could conjure. The way the light from the evening sun played in the colors and between the leaves creates a rainbow sea that Natsu would like nothing better than to dive into. In what had become an uncharacteristic moment of childish wonder, he had asked his jailor is he could do just that; if he could swim in this wondrous Technicolor Ocean of light. They laughed and told him that if he played his cards right they were sure they could arrange _something_ for him. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he was almost positive that they never intended to bring him here ever again. Still, he would take from these magical stains what he could. The trip was rather dull when they broke the tree line and came upon the main path to the city, but Natsu knew the flurry of colors would forever paint his dreams.

As they drew closer to the city, the first thing Natsu noticed was the smell. It was…not rotten, but pungent in a way he couldn't really describe. It wasn't bad, not really, it was just strong. It was clear to him that a lot of people lived there, the variety of smells were enough to tell him that. If the smell didn't hint at it, the sight surely would. As soon as they broke the line of buildings, Natsu could see the throngs of people all gathered in the square, moving from stand to stand a make-shift market hastily erected in the booming city center. With the masterful way they moved through it however it seemed safe to say that they were more than accustomed to the layout, giving rise to the suspicion that said market was assembled rather often. He watched as the patrons drifted from stall to stall sometimes blocking the movement of the cart they all stood in, bringing them to sudden lurching stops at random intervals. Natsu didn't mind. It was all so…different from Artis; he had to see, hear, and smell everything!

He watched as merchants peddled their wares, shouting at passers-by to get their attention. As perspective buyers would spare them but a glance and move on to other stands, pretending not to be interested, but slowly drifting back as soon as they thought the merchant had forgotten them. They hadn't, but it wasn't their prerogative to inform their potential customers. As long as something was purchased in the end, what did it matter the time of the transaction? He saw a man who played a harp-like instrument like his momma had, but it was much smaller and he could carry it around with him on his back when he wasn't playing. He saw a woman who crafted the finest jewelry he had ever seen, yet used no jewels! It was all metal-play and she made it seem so effortless that to most it didn't matter whether or not they had fine gems sitting the middle of the pieces as long as they were for sale and fine ladies (and their men) could possess them. He saw a fruit vendor selling fruits that Natsu had never seen before. Fruit that had hair growing from it, yet was the brightest green on the inside; fruit that looked like it was on fire from the outside, but the inside was a pale white and riddled with small seeds; fruit that appeared barbed on the outside with a strange stalk sticking up from the top, but when the vendor cut it open it was a lovely juicy-looking yellow on the inside and Natsu's mouth watered at the idea of tasting just a piece. Seeing this, the vendor made his way to the currently stalled cart and gave a piece to the pink haired boy, and smiled brightly at the wonder on his face when he discovered that it was just as juicy and sweet as it looked. When the cart began moving again Natsu waved at the man and yelled his thanks, determining from then on that he would forever and always remember the taste of 'pineapples' as they were called; this world was such a strange and brilliant place. He found his apprehension slowly seep away as he viewed the kindness these people showed one another, and didn't once contemplate the absence of any of the slaves he knew they must possess…

A/N: And here is where I will end this chapter. I've noticed that rather than borrowing characters and making them do things that the original mold of the character won't allow. I change them such that while their inherent character structure is still intact, it's just damaged enough to make them pliable and fit the needs of whatever situation I throw them into. In other words, rather than stealing the characters themselves, I take their visage and the readers understanding of those characters to circumvent the process of crafting an original character for myself; which is fairly pointless in itself because of the lengthy back stories I craft for them. I digress; I wrote this chapter in its entirety six times before I decided on the final product. For those of you reading my other stories I have made a bit of progress, and I will hopefully not keep you waiting another year for an update, but I can promise nothing; excepting of course that I will continue to attempt to make progress as hastily as what little personal life I have left will allow. Hopefully you find that sufficient enough not to abandon them. Also, yes, this will be a Gratsu story…eventually. I may write chapters that give you a peak at their upcoming romance as I have planned with A Tale of Tales but again, no promises. Thank you all for reading, I sincerely hope you enjoyed this and I look forward to reading any reviews you may choose to leave for me. s


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